The doorbell rings. Nancy opens it to see a leering, drunk Luke waving a tequila bottle. "Party time," he slurs seductively.

Sophia weeps in the pantry while Nancy pours Luke some coffee and sits him in a salon chair for some tough love. Luke wants to take her upstairs and bang her blue, but Nancy fends him off by claiming this is a terrible night for it because she's catching up on "all the this-and-that's [she's] been putting off all week," like, say, harvesting people's innards. That backs up on me a lot. Nancy tries to send him home. "I can't, not like this. My dad will kill me," Luke grouses. "If he hasn't kicked off already." Wow, crude. Nancy sympathizes with him. "It's awful. I know how you feel," she says kindly. "And you love your Dad. The nicest thing my mom ever said to me was, 'You need more makeup.' This from a woman who weighed 300 pounds and had breath like a grave." Trying to be blasé, Luke insists that Willard will beat the cancer. "We're going hunting at semester break...You should see him, he's really something," marvels Luke. "Powerful, fast...I learned a lot watching him." A tear trickles down his face, which sets off a flood. Nancy strokes him and lets him cry.

Donner charges into his office, but stops limply when his deputy has nothing to report. Molly shrugs, too, but tells him Lou called and left a cell-phone number.

Lou's mobile rings as he's clearing stuff off the motel bed, ready for full-on two-quarter magic-fingers massage. When he hears Donner's voice, Lou informs him that he's got a hunch about the killer: it's a woman. Donner is shocked and doesn't quite believe it. To prove his theory, Lou tells him that Carolyn's killer puked at the crime scene, leaving remnants of a partially-digested brownie in the toilet bowl. "She checked herself in the mirror and threw her guts up in the bowl," sighs Lou. "I think she's bulimic." Donner, aghast, drops the phone and sprints for the door. Apparently, there is only one bulimic in town, and she's yakked her last cake.